Taking Your Words and Maybe Your Heart
by Marking.My.Territory
Summary: They met. He doesn't remember. She does. He wrestles. She's going against her parents wishes. Now she has to write a book about him.


A/N: Hello readers(: This is my first fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it.  
Review and tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: WWE owns mostly everything.

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"_Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor"_

Two thirty in the morning and I still lay motionless in bed, wondering on what tomorrow, rather what today would bring. My future was going to be tested in a mere seven hours and it will all be in the hands of a stranger. I didn't know if I could trust him with such a delicate thing—especially since it's mine—but I knew there could be a good outcome to all of this. This was the one thing my parents didn't want me to do, they practically consider such a minor thing to be defined as _rebelling. _I simply call it, _freedom. _

The minutes seemed to be on the opposing side tonight, tickly nonchalantly like it did every day. I rolled over to notice that it was now two thirty-three and sighed in frustration. Things would be so much easier if I just slept through this noiseless night, which was very rare in my household. I sat up from my queen size bed until me feet touched the cold wooden floor sending a shiver through my body and began to drag my feet towards the balcony. Sliding the door open—without trying to make too much noise—I stepped outside to the cool November breeze which made me seem more awake then I wished to be.

I leaned over the balcony and contemplated on what my parents would think of me when I came home later this afternoon. They didn't want this for me. In their eyes, I was going to one of the world's finest business women and own two or three companies at a time while making millions so that they could lavish themselves to as much luxuries as they wanted. That wasn't me though. I wanted to be the girl to 'spice' things up a bit and go find the one man that seemed to be tugging on my heart.

I only knew this one guy for five hours tops and somehow I felt like I knew him way before our very first—and only—encounter. In my eyes, he would be considered _perfection. _One word that I never thought I would use or hear of because I never believed in it. People aren't perfect I followed that saying like it was God, but this one man seemed to make me go against it like an atheist.

His piercing blue eyes were the one thing I remember the most. The two pupils surrounded by a sea of blue would always travel down my body and back up to my face which sent a shiver up my spine even just by thinking about it. When he looked at me, it was like he could read my every thought even though I couldn't really think when I was around him. It seemed sudden that he left the club that night telling me that he wouldn't know when we would meet again, I only prayed it would be sooner than later.

The cold breeze became unbearable and I stepped back inside to only sit cross-legged on the bottom of my bedroom floor. Going under the covers wouldn't accomplish much but more restless turns to only realize five minutes past. I looked up to my dresser to see a picture of me and the man on that one beloved and memorable night we shared.

I remember the night after meeting him my best friend since first grade, Dana, told me where to find the man that I somehow seemed to fall in love with to quickly for my own self control. I darted towards her house to only see her sitting in front of her television watching the one show that never really caught my attention. Yet, there he was flying all around the ring in only a pair of wrestling trunks and an oiled body. My mouth hung open as I saw him punt the other man in the ring and a chorus of boos and cheers followed while he dropped down onto the padded floor outside the ring.

As a reminisced on the events that only happened two nights before I dared to look at the clock which only showed that it was three in the morning and I was yet to find my escape towards unconsciousness.

I felt at this point my mind and soul were at two different places but were both trying to reconnect in one certain location—my bed. For some unknown reason I reached under the bed and grabbed the one box that I haven't opened in years. _Kyle's Pictures _was written on top of the box in red and black sharpie. While carefully opening the four ends of the box I could hear the sounds of yelling coming through the paper thin walls of my family's apartment complex. My mother and father were fighting about how the rent was two months overdue and we were going to be evicted soon. Every night it was the same old routine and the same result came out of it, moving somewhere cheaper.

Once the box was fully open I pour all the pictures to the now freezing floor and smiled at the childhood and high school memories that flooded the floor. That's when things were _picture perfect_, that's when things were normal. As a rummaged through all the pictures, flipping over the ones that landed upside down and picking up ones that I couldn't seem to remember the front door slammed and the car engine roared to life. Father was leaving because he couldn't take the arguing any longer, but would return home later with a box of chocolates and flowers and apologize for his stupidity.

I recollected all the pictures that seemed to get me drowsy enough to fall into a nice slumber until I had to awake for the beginning of my new future. Sliding the box under the bed I took a quick glance at the picture of me and the man and smiled. As I settled underneath the covers, I couldn't help but think that in less than six hours that man would be my main focus for the next seven months. Closing my eyes all I could see was his prefect overall figure and finally found the black hole towards unconsciousness.


End file.
